


A Quiet Life

by jofngve



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Found Family, Idiots in Love, M/M, Strangers to Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-25
Packaged: 2021-03-25 10:01:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 19,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30087405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jofngve/pseuds/jofngve
Summary: Luke wouldn't necessarily call himself experienced when it comes to the whole spectrum of flirting / dating / etc. and Leia actually bullies him when he phrases it as such.But, well, Luke is pretty sure he'd know if he were being courted. Which makes this whole Mandalorian situation that more puzzling...
Relationships: Din Djarin & Grogu | Baby Yoda & Luke Skywalker, Din Djarin/Luke Skywalker
Comments: 302
Kudos: 506





	1. sweets

Luke wouldn't necessarily call himself experienced when it comes to the whole spectrum of flirting / dating / etc.  
Leia bullies him when he actually phrases it as such, laughs that it is very telling, the fact that he would choose to word it like that.

But, well, not many people were lining up to sweep Luke "Wormie" Skywalker off his feet back on Tatooine, and his own attempts had never been that fruitful. And yeah, there wasn't exactly a lot of time or energy left-over to engage in any type of dating during the war, much less a lot of it. Biggs and him did use to fool around when the adrenaline hit in the right moment, but that doesn't really count, right? Luke is sure he didn't really convince Biggs with his effortless charm- it had probably (most definitely) been the other way around.

He does tell Leia that she should definitely not throw stones from that glass house she calls her home: what considering her taking a good long while to do anything about Han. But somehow she always manages to either pull out an eloquent argument or conjure up an elegant change of topic. So that line of questioning does not help much. Especially since Han argues he had never had to engage in any type of courting since the princess had taken one good look at him and decided to jump his bones.

That argument however is refuted when his wife smacks him upside the head.

And well, now after everything, Luke has had things to do! Jedi temples to find, artefacts to search for, texts to translate and interpret and preserve or throw out, all on top of building up a proper Jedi school, and then Leia is always calling him in to throw his weight around in the Senate- he's busy is all.

And even if- _if_ he were actively searching for anyone in that regard (and that is a pretty big _if_ ), Luke is pretty sure the combination of last Jedi, missing hand, and son of Darth Vader would not lead to fun dinner conversations.

The point is Luke wouldn't go so far as to say he were particularly oblivious. And he is pretty sure he'd know if he were being courted.

Which makes this whole Mandalorian situation that more puzzling. Luke really isn't sure what to make of it all. Han's smarmy grin won't leave his face when he brings it up to tease him, Chewie roars something supportive as always, and Leia just rolls her eyes exasperatedly often in combination with something along the lines of _If you are truly that dense brother-dearest, I worry for the fate of the galaxy_. So it's really not Luke's fault that he is unsure, especially with those three as his consultancy team.

Kriffing terrific.

But he is getting ahead of himself.

* * *

Grogu is a sweet child. As mischievous as they come, but it is so hard to reprimand, let alone stay upset with, the little one when he decides to set his large black eyes on you. So Luke tries for a stern tone, _Grogu, we do not eat the frogs in the pond before dinner-time_ and _Good padawans should not use the Force to steal each other's cookies,_ and decides to let the rest slide with minimal admonishment.  
It works well enough.

And Luke wouldn't normally stoop down to consider snitching a viable tactic to ensure good behaviour, but the secret weapon is definitely telling Grogu's father about his latest capers. Mind you, the Mandalorian is no harsher in his scolding than Luke, but the little womp-rat is more likely to be remorseful and remain on his best behaviour when his father is present. Exactly up until the moment the man is called away for a job once-more.

After a bit of a mix-up **aka** a good old-fashion case of miscommunication, Luke had managed to assuage the bounty hunter: who had been ready to accept the fact he would never see his son again. A quick transfer of Yavin IV's coordinates through some encrypted comm-messages combined with an invitation to visit whenever, and the Mandalorian had cautiously arrived three days after Luke and Grogu.

Han had had half a heart-attack at the sight of the beskar armour which Leia had thoroughly enjoyed. Both had stayed to watch over the younglings when Luke had more or less dropped everything to heed the child's call. There aren't many students really, with Grogu now four, but the built-up temple had grown into something of a home over time.

"You know you are welcome to come by more often and stay longer if your schedule allows for it," Luke smiles as the Mandalorian gives Grogu a last nuzzle and hands the child back to Luke, "We have more than enough room and I know Grogu would appreciate it."

The shake of the bounty hunter's head is miniscule as he straightens back up, "I wouldn't want to intrude. And interrupt his training."

"Nonsense, you wouldn't be intruding in the slightest. And anyhow, I have to admit, the offer is purely selfish," Luke leans forward conspiratorially, softly pinching one of Grogu's ears, "this one tends to be better behaved when his father is watching, isn't that right?"

Grogu gurgles something in response which sounds surprisingly reproachful and the Mandalorian huffs what could be a laugh distorted by the voice modulator. He shifts Grogu in his arms. "If you're really sure? I just don't see any other... guardians interrupting training time."

Ah.

"Well, I don't think you ever will," Luke has to smile sadly, glances over to the little dark-skinned boy and the two twi'lek siblings, so similar in their faint blue colour and the shape of their noses. "I'm their guardian. Or parent, I guess."

The Mandalorian stiffens, turns his head sharply to look at Luke, now with his full attention. "They're foundlings?"

Luke shrugs, "If you're asking if I found them, well yes. I was investigating a still active imperial base with Leia but they knew we were coming- blew everything up but left behind all the children. Finn felt me coming through the Force and led me right to him. He was so tiny." Luke had never felt anything like it, the hopeful desperation when he first laid eyes on the little guy, but he can't help his voice from growing emotionless, "And I found Nera and Carn on a hidden Hutt slaver outpost."

The bounty hunter follows Luke's gaze to the children playing some elaborate game of freeze-tag.

Luke sighs, and tries for a smile, "So really, come as often as you like. You wouldn't be disturbing anyone."

The other man gives a short nod, "Well if that is the case..."

* * *

As a result of this genius argument the Mandalorian comes to visit more frequently. Once a month usually, but he stays no longer than a day or two before excusing himself again. The other younglings enjoy his visits almost as much as Grogu, and Luke is proud about how good they all have become at sensing the Mandalorian's presence in the atmosphere before the man lands his ship on the launchpad behind the temple. 

Grogu is always the first to notice, his bond with his father a strong and warm connection, and the rest of the padawans are equally fast to scamper off after Grogu to see who reaches the launchpad first.   
Grogu almost always wins. 

Well now is as good enough a time as any to stop the late afternoon's meditation and Luke rises as well, dusts down the back of his robe and follows the giggling mob. 

Mando is already surrounded by the time Luke reaches them, Grogu secure in the crook of one arm. 

"Did you bring us something?" Carn is the first to ask, straight to the point, eyes wide and smile missing a baby tooth. 

Nera scowls, and shushes her younger brother, "Carn! Don't be rude! Mr. Mando is here to visit Grogu, not feed you candy." 

"Do you have a story, Mr. Mando?" Finn interrupts the two, "Can you tell us the one about the krayt dragon again? Pleasepleasepleasepleaaaaase?" 

"Patience, padawans," Luke quiets them, soothes the squabbling twi'lek siblings and moves to ruffle Finn's hair, "Let Mr. Mando arrive first." He throws a wink at the armoured man over the heads of the children, "I'm sure he has sweets and stories galore."

The children were not wrong to expect a present.  
The third time the Mandalorian had come to visit he had almost seemed nervous, had pulled Luke aside, a bit out of earshot of the younglings. Luke had expected everything from bad news, to worse news, to uncomfortable news, and was thrown for a loop when the other man held open a small satchel filled with colourfully wrapped sweets. 

"I-" the Mandalorian started, "I brought some- for the younglings. Is that alright?" 

The complete and utter surprise keeps Luke from answering right away, heart swelling at the unsure man in front of him. 

"I don't have to-" 

"No!" it probably comes out a bit too loud and the Mandalorian startles from where he had already started to slide the satchel back into his bag. Luke grabs his wrist to stop him, "No, no that's completely alright! It's very kind of you, I'm sure the children will be delighted." 

The other man has frozen under the prosthetic hand and Luke is quick to pull it back and shove his hand into the wide sleeve of his cloak. 

"Really," he let's the smile overtake his face, there is not much use in stopping it, "you didn't have to, but I'm sure you're about to become everyone's favourite. Padawans?" he turns to call over his shoulder to where the children were already curiously eyeing the conversation, "Would you come here for a moment?" 

The younglings are quick to scamper over, a tad shy but gazes all inquisitive and expectant. The Mandalorian still seems slightly awkward, still a bit stiff in the shoulders, but Grogu hugs his ankle and the man calms in the Force. 

"Here," he says and holds the bag out, the shiny exterior of the individually wrapped treats glinting in the sun. 

There's hesitancy from Finn and the twins, unsure if they can really take one, and Luke's heart squeezes painfully at the reason that might be. But Grogu has no such reservations, squeals absolutely elated, and zooms the satchel into his little hands with an impressive use of the Force. 

"Grogu!" Mando huffs, too slow to re-grab the bag and leans down on one knee so that he is on eye-level with the rest of the younglings and can gently boop his son on the nose, "You have to share, come on. Be careful with the wrapper." 

Grogu grumbles, but grabs one red bonbon before handing the bag back to his father. Mando holds it out to Finn first, who is clasping and unclasping his hands behind his back. "The blue ones are the sweetest," he offers, voice very soft, and Finn finally moves to take one as well. After that Carn is not hard to convince, and Mando hands the whole bag to Nera who was trying very hard be not seem too eager. "I think you're probably the best person to give these to," he says, voice fond through the modulator, "Make sure they don't eat themselves sick." 

Nera nods, face blushing but still very serious, until her little brother starts complaining to save him the yellow ones, "Neraaaaa, they're with caramel, please, just two more!" and then it's all an animated discussion of which colour is best, and who has the worst taste in sweets. 

"Oh no," Luke laughs, has to breathe out the happiness he can feel through his training bonds with the children, which is only exasperating the joy bubbling in his own chest, "that will result in quite a sugar-rush before dinner."

The Mandalorian shifts again, from where he has gotten up again, and his helmet has an apologetic tilt to it, "Kriff. I hadn't thought of that."

Luke waves it off, "It doesn't matter, I'm sure Nera will keep them in check. And they've been training hard, all of them, they deserve it."

He glances over to the Mandalorian, "You're good with them. The younglings."

The man shrugs, shoulders hunched as if embarrassed. "They deserve good things. And it was no bother." 

There is something left unsaid, about own childhood experiences and the knowledge that comes with it. But it remains unsaid and they watch the younglings tumble in the soft grass of the courtyard, giggling in delight through stuffed cheeks, perfectly content.

So of course Mando has sweets in his satchel, knows each kid's favourite by now, and presents them all with their individual little bags.

The trepidation, the timidity has worn completely off, and Carn joins Finn in his request for the kyrat-dragon story. Both are excitedly talking over each other, asking for stories while simultaneously reporting their own. Anything from training-successes, dinner last week, to weird dreams they had, is fair game. Finn has Grogu perched on his small hip, who interrupts them with his own additions which both boys translate without a second thought. Mando nods intermittently, and gapes at the right places, fills the few pauses with _Really?_ s and _Is that so?_ s. Nera amends the details, criticises the obvious embellishments, but when Mando asks her how her training is going she breaks into just as exited an account.

Luke can only smile as they all move inside. The kids will have their free-time before dinner, and he'll make that meaty-stew from last month, it has to sit on the fire for at least an hour, he might get some reading done in the time in-between.

The kids scatter in the kitchen, putting their sweets in the designated cupboard, and then moving to grab books to occupy themselves with. Luke pours cold fruit tea in everyone's favourite cup and prevents two almost-spills with slight nudges of the Force. The make-shift den is thankfully connected to the kitchen and Luke sticks his head through the sliding door to see three small heads already buried in various beginner-reader books. Leia had scoffed when he mentioned the lack of entertainment, and had promptly sent a whole crate of books, board-games, dolls and puzzles with Han's last delivery-run. He'll have to comm her for new material soon.

When Luke turns back into the kitchen he's surprised to see Mando still standing there. Usually the man excuses himself relatively quickly, retires to his room with his son. It had taken a while to convince the bounty hunter that he didn't need to sleep in his ship, that he was welcome to share his room with Grogu while he was visiting. The child had been the one to convince his father, actually using a bit of the Force to push Mando in the direction of the sleeping quarters after one too many refusals. But Grogu is still sitting on the kitchen counter as well, slowly sipping at his cold tea and with a satisfied "Bah!" holds out his cup to his father.

"I'll drink later, _ad'ika_ ," Mando murmurs, accepts the cup and places it back on the counter. Grogu turns to look at Luke and points another finger, "Patoo."

"Yes, we'll have meat stew, don't worry," Luke smiles, answering the question the child posed out loud. He fills another pitcher with tea, letting a glass float over next to the cup without a thought, "Here, you can take this and drink in your room. I know Grogu's being impatient."

"Oh, yes, thank you," Mando nods, shoulders squared and then adds, "I have something for you," puts his bag onto the kitchen counter and starts rummaging around.

"For me?" Luke asks, startled. "What is it?"

He had mentioned once in passing that he was always on the look-out for Jedi artefacts, and the Mandalorian had said he would keep an eye out for anything that might resemble _anything magical_ as he put it. But Luke never expected anything much, it was a kind thing to have offered at all. Maybe it was just some information he had managed to pick up. Mando never said exactly which jobs he was taking, but Luke knows from experience in which weird situations information can fall into your hands, if you were willing to carry a data-stick (or very curious droid) around with you.

The container Mando pulls out is one of those thermally-coated boxes, not too large, and as he undoes the latch there is a small puff of cold. When Luke leans over to look inside he sees four little pots, tops covered in shiny foil, and insides a light blue.

Blue-milk pudding.

"You mentioned Tatooine," Mando says, voice even, still holding out the container, "and blue milk."

Again Luke feels completely blind-sighted. When was the last time he had blue-milk pudding? Aunt Beru had only ever cooked it for his birthday, or very special occasions, the one time he had taken a too-quick turn with his speeder and found himself completely battered as if someone had gotten him good with too coarse sandpaper. This is too much, where had he even found this?

Mando tilts his head and Luke notices how he must have said all of that out-loud. He really isn't sure what to add, "Really, Mando, this isn't necessary! You already bring so much for the kids, you don't have to go out of your way to bring me something as well."

The other man just looks down into the thermo-box, "Do you not want them?"

Maker, this is difficult to do, Luke should not be this bad at communication, at expressing gratitude. "No, no, I do, I love blue-milk pudding, really." Luke knows he's rambling again but if it helps bring his point across, he'll gladly come off as a bit of a chatterbox, "I'm just saying, you don't have to. I'm not even sure they have this anywhere else than on Tatooine, and I shudder to think that this was the sole motivation for you to visit that hunk of rock."

Mando holds up a hand, assuaged and gives the barest shake of his head, "It was no bother, I was in the area," he gestures behind him, "I'll put them in the conservator." The Mandalorian is always so difficult to read in the Force, that beskar and the face-covering doing something to shield the majority of his emotions, if they are not too strong. There is a warm wash of contentment now though, a soft orange as he turns to tuck away the desert.

"I'll hide them in the vegetable drawer."

Luke laughs, a bit shaky with how his light his heart is at the unexpected gift, "That is a good idea, I think that might be the only place nobody will actively snoop. Isn’t that right?” He gives Grogu’s nose a bop and is rewarded with a gurgle.

“But really," Luke pauses to wait until the other man turns back to face him, places a hand on the cool beskar of his pauldron "Thank you. I really appreciate it."

He gets a nod and then Mando excuses himself to bring his things to his room. Grogu demands to be lifted upwards and is promptly granted his will. Mando rearranges the child and grabs the pitcher of tea but Grogu helps with the glass, grasping it in two tiny hands.

Luke will call the younglings in for dinner in a while, listen to them successfully pester Mando for stories and stifle his laughter when the man tries to frame his jobs as kid-friendly as possible. Mando often occupies the role of evening-entertainment, not eating anything but instead taking his food with him later to eat in the privacy of his own room.

Later the Mandalorian will come back and help with the dishes, gloves off and scrubbing dirty pans while Luke dries and let's them float into the appropriate cupboards. Mando will huff something about magic and cheating, and Luke will laugh and try not to look at broad ungloved palms and exposed wrists.

It's an initial sort of routine that is quickly growing in both familiarity and comfort. And Luke finds himself anticipating the arrival of the familiar Force signature almost as much as the younglings.

And it's entirely not a problem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this started as a quick 5+1 thing and then promptly grew its own consciousness but- tada! This is my take on Dinluke, I've been reading so many fics from so many talented, talented writers and thought I'd give it a shot! 😊  
> I'm hoping this will grow to three solid chapters, but I've been having so much fun writing it: we will seeeee
> 
> Let me know what you think in the comments 💛 Hope everyone is doing well and staying safe!
> 
> \---  
> Mando'a translations:  
>  _ad'ika_ \- little one, son/ daughter
> 
> \---  
> pssssst the idea for blue milk pudding is from Naberrie Blooms wirtten by zombified419 and it is literally the fic that got me started on all of this so go give it a reaaaad and some love! 🎉


	2. Tell me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol I am so dumb, completely forgot to tick the box on this fic which says it will be multi-chapteeer! 
> 
> so as promised: chapter 2 including weird-weather-planet and Force-mumbo-jumbo which I just invented, deep late-night conversations and some good-old fashioned sibling teasing!

Three months pass and by now the rainy season has truly arrived on Yavin IV. The rain is consistent and unyielding, falling in sheets and washing everything in a greyish green. Anyone who is so unlucky to be caught in it find themselves absolutely drenched in seconds.

The force barrier under which they all welcome Mando when he lands on the launch pad is enough to hold off the rain for now, but it is still a more coordinated welcome-party than usually. At least that's what Luke is pleasantly surprised by, until there is some puddle splashing on the way back which then promptly gets out of hand and results in an all-out water fight. Luke manages to avoid most of the carnage, laughing as he attempts to convert this into a lesson on how to Force-stop falling water. He remains blissfully dry until Mando grabs his shoulder from behind and Luke has to shriek in surprise, and promptly looses concentration long enough to drop his own Force-shield. Mando's breathless, gasping laughter is probably worth being soaked to the bone.

A round of hot baths and spicy soup later, it is a little bit past bedtime. And with the ambient sound of the rain outside the younglings are not too hard to convince of the advantages of a soft, warm bed.

Mando is waiting outside in the hall when Luke slowly closes to door to Finn's bedroom.

"Tea?" he asks quietly and Luke nods.

Evening tea had evolved into another sort of shared ritual, mostly because the children's bedtime was too early for both of them to go to sleep. Usually Luke would spend the alone-time reading, doing laundry, getting a few things cleaned up which he hadn't been able to manage during nap time. But when Mando is there to visit it's nicer to spend the evening together, especially since the man had started bringing along the tea.

"I don't really know what it is," Mando says, pulls the small box from his belt and places it on the kitchen counter, "the woman I bought it from had a strong dialect."

"Ooh, let's see," the box is not fancy, folded from thicker cardboard, but when Luke opens the latch there is a very pleasant floral scent. Luke lifts it to his nose and takes a deep inhale.

"Oh wow, this smells great! Here-" he holds it out but then, like the idiot he is, realises the helmet.

"Kriff, sorry, I-" Luke paddles back, laughs awkwardly, "Nevermind. I'm sure it'll taste just as good, I'll put the kettle on."

Mando huffs a laugh, "No harm done," and starts rummaging in another pocket, "I have something else."

"Ugh, Mando!" Luke groans, lets the kettle run full and puts it on its little foot-thingy, before turning around, trying and failing to look too upset. "You have to stop doing this! The tea is too much as it is."

"It's no trouble."

Mando finds what he is looking for and pulls out a pack of cards, "We can't let the foundlings have all the fun, right?"

He hands them over and their gloved fingers brush.

"Ah these are so pretty," Luke smiles, as he slides the cards out of their casing. It's an older deck, the cards smooth and well-worn but intricately designed, with hand-drawn figures in what must have once been bright colours.

The water comes to a boil and after grabbing two cups and the tea-pot Luke picks up the cards again.

"What should we play for?" Luke grins, already shuffling. Even though he can't see the other man's face, Mando seems a bit taken aback at how fluidly Luke flips the cards, ruffling them with practised ease. It had taken a while to get his prosthetic hand to get as fluid as his real one had been before, but it was good practice.

"Uh," Mando splutters, "I think I might have just made a huge mistake."

Luke laughs, and pulls up a chair to start dealing.

"Well you do know how little there is to do on Tatooine," he hands out the cards in the traditional order, first two, then three, then two again, "and well, I was in the army. A game of cards is always quick to play and pack-up again."

"You were a solider?" Mando picks up the cards one by one, starts arranging them.

"Not really a soldier per se," Gods, it is weird to explain to someone who had no idea who he was, "I flew as a pilot, in the Rebellion."

Mando looks up, "You were in the Rebellion? Those crackpots that blew up that death-moon-thing?"

Luke snorts, has to cough the laugh into his fist.

"Yeah, uh... I guess you could say I was the head-crackpot of that whole affair."

Head-tilt.

"What?"

Ok, how to phrase this.

"I might have been the poster-boy of the Rebellion... along with my sister, the now senator of the Republic," Luke scratches at the back of his head, suddenly sheepish though he really doesn't know why, "and I might have been to one to blow up the Death Star."

Mando just holds his cards, completely still. "You blew up a Death Star?"

"Yesssss?" Luke let's the word grow quiet between his teeth.

Another bout of silence. Then Mando suddenly snaps his fingers with the hand not holding his cards, "Wait! Did you have something to do with that king, or emperor or whatever dying? With his lackey, Gods, with the dumb name. 'Garth' something?"

Luke is pretty sure this is the most surreal thing that has ever happened to him.

"Well, I was there when they both died? Do you mean Darth Vader?"

Mando nods, "Yeah, that guy. Crazy." Then he seems to realise Luke's weird phrasing, "Wait, you were just there? Did you not kill them?"

Luke looks down at his cards.

It's a really good hand. He'd probably win.

But maybe it's better to get all of this out of the way early.

"No. No, I didn't kill them," he replies, "On the second Death Star I met Emperor Palpatine and Darth Vader. Palpatine was a Sith, like a Jedi but using the dark side of the Force. He had corrupted Vader, who used to be a Jedi knight named Anakin Skywalker," Luke hears Mando inhale through his nose, "who used to be my father. Palpatine tried to convince me to join the dark side as well- when that didn't work he used this Force-tactic, kind of like lightening, to torture me. So my father killed him to save me, and then died while doing it."

The whole speech does not seem to have lasted more than maybe 20 seconds but Luke suddenly feels tired. It is so weird to explain it to someone who doesn't seem to have any frame of reference, so disconcerting that that really very, very horrible day could be summed-up with a few sentences.

"I'm sorry," Mando breaks the silence, and Luke starts from where he had been very intently considering his cards, "about your father."

The man is being honest, the faintest blue, purple tinge colouring the air around him. Luke can only just nod. He doesn't think anyone has ever given him condolences.

"We have a saying, in Mando'a," Mando continues, a little haltingly, as if he doesn't really usually find himself giving advice to the sons of mass-murders, " _Gar taldin ni jaonyc; gar sa buir, ori'wadaas'la."_ His voice sounds different around the foreign vowels, "Nobody cares who your father was, only the father you'll be." Mando gestures, a little lost, "I think that probably applies here."

A lump has suddenly appeared right in the hollow of Luke's throat and he has to swallow to get rid of it. But his heart feels infinitely lighter.

"Thank you."

Luke coughs, and rearranges the cards which do not need the rearranging.

"So, go fish?"

Mando is good, but Luke is better, doesn't even have to use the tricks Han taught him what feels like a lifetime ago. Luke throws the right card, knowing exactly what Mando still has to have on his hand, and when the other man bows his head in defeat Luke cackles in delight.

"This is ridiculous," Mando huffs, but it's closer to a laugh. "I have never lost this badly before."

"Well, you know what they say, 'Unlucky in cards, lucky in' _"-_ Luke just manages to bite his tongue before finishing the proverb. Maker, he forgot he wasn't playing with Han.

Mando tilts his helmet, "Lucky in-?"

Luke panics, "Life! Lucky in life," he manages to breathe out, hopes he is not blushing.

Mando hums, seemingly content.

"Well if that is the case I guess I'll take what I can get."

* * *

Mando has been staying a bit longer lately, longer than his usual two days, extending the stay to a whole week one time. Luke is definitely not complaining- wrangling four young children is stressful enough on a good day, and if you add the small details of said children all being Force-users. Well let's just say having one pair of hands more to make sure everyone is eating their greens is an immense help.  
During training Luke always feels a bit bad to leave Mando completely to his own devices. It's probably frightfully boring. But then Luke catches Mando in the hanger, sorting through Luke's makeshift work-room. "I found an old speeder in the back," Mando gestures with a wrench. "I was going to try and get it going again. It might be helpful to have another means of transportation." Somewhere the Mandalorian had shed his vambraces and rolled up the sleeves of his jumpsuit. The sight of tan and muscular forearms has Luke entirely distracted.

"If that's alright?"

"Yes!" Luke blurts, nods curtly, willing all of his blood to stay exactly where he wants it to, "That'd be great, Mando! Take whatever you need, there's definitely enough to fix around here."

The man does seem to take the invitation literally. There are just so many tiny things to repair, and there is very little to stop Mando from finding and fixing all of them. Luke is so very glad that the stove doesn't do that annoying beeping thing anymore when you turn the front left burner on before the back right. Not to mention that weird rumbling thing the laundry-droid used to do.

So yes, it is great to have Mando around. Not to mention that the ability to have some adult conversation is a nice bonus.

"I take offence to that!" Leia huffs when Luke holovids her one evening after two shared cups of a strong grassy tea, "It's not my fault you only ever call me in a blue moon. And doesn't my dear husband visit you often enough?"

Luke raises an eyebrow and his sister winces simultaneously. "Now that I think about it, some adult conversation would be in short-demand," Leia deadpans and Luke laughs again. Ah he has missed her. He tells her as much. "I miss you too, Luke," she says, "I do have to come by sometime. Preferably when your Mandalorian is visiting as well, I have yet to have a good look at him."

"Wait, but you met him that first time," Luke furrows his brow, thinking back, "You know, when you and Han were keeping an eye on the kids."

Leia waves her hand, "Yes, yes I know. But that doesn't really count, the man was practically a nervous statue." Her grin turns mischievous, "And anyway, if my brother is basically raving about the guy, I do deserve a closer look."

Luke can feel himself flush, face warm. "Leia, I am not raving," he manages not to grumble, "I am simply... recounting the events of these past few months?"

Leia raises an eyebrow.

Kriff, that was too objective- "I just mean I'm just telling what happened! And if he keeps bringing sweets for everyone it's really not my fault that I happen to tell you about it."

"Sure Luke. And here I was not even hearing you react to the fact that I called him your Mandalorian," she smirks, and Luke gapes.

"Wh-what?" he sputters and Gods, Luke is sure he is deep red by now, "That's- I just didn't hear you right! You know the connection here is terrible, and that- it's not- he most definitely isn't my Mandalorian."

Leia has her favourite smug look on her face.

"Fine, fine," she relents, graciously, with an almost royal wave of her hand, "I will not keep stating the truth."

Luke sighs in relief.

" **If!** "

Of course there's a catch, damn his sister.

"You can tell me I'm wrong," Leia tilts her head, and the holographic image ripples, "One word and I will keep my silence forever."

Now of course it would be easier to deny everything, vehemently at that, but Luke knows his sister and she is anything if not entirely too good at sniffing out the truth. And, well. Maybe it would be nice to get some advice.

So Luke sighs, loudly and dramatically, and slaps his hands in front of his face.

"That bad, huh?"

Luke groans, slowly pulling his hands downward and exaggerating his pitiful frown, "I don't knoooooooooow, Leia. This whole situation sucks."

"Why?" Leia frowns, "I thought you were getting along? That the children like him as well?"

"That's exactly the problem," Luke sighs, "The kids love him. And you know how skittish they tend to be. But he is so patient with them, it's ridiculous. I thought he was just this silent and stoic, kinda awkward guy who happened to stumble across this kid. But I can just feel how much he cares for his son. And the others now too, Finn and Carn and Nera. And Mando is just this- this solid presence in the Force, calm and warm and it feels like my heart grows three sizes just when he's around."

Silence.

"Dank farrik, you've got it bad," Leia grimaces. She actually looks worried.

Luke sighs. He hates it when she's right.

"It doesn't matter," he shrugs, "nothing will come of it and it will pass soon enough." He tries for a smile and is unsure if it works, "I'm sure we'll laugh about this soon enough."

Leia does not look convinced, "I do not like this, Luke. You deserve happiness. Someone who makes you happy."

"I am happy," he tries to assuage her, "Leia, really. The children are so important to me, I could never be unhappy with them around."

Leia huffs, crosses her arms, "Don't be so mature. I'm just saying it's not wrong to want things."

That actually startles a laugh out of Luke, "God, I am so upset you never got to meet Master Yoda. He would have definitely whacked you with his cane for that."

His sister smirks, "I would have liked to see him try." But then she turns serious again, "Really though, Luke. Don't be so hard on yourself. I mean, maybe it's not entirely unrequited- what you always tell me sounds suspiciously like not pure-friend-behaviour."

"No, no we are not going down that path, Leia," it's Luke's turn to wave his hands, to shoo away the hope that he will not let itself manifest. "I'm just going to be an adult, and behave as such. Keep things professional."

"Hmm," Leia hums and the hologram crackles, "Well if you're sure. But when I come to visit, the least I can do as a responsible older sister is give him the shovel talk. It's friendship appropriate as well."

"Fine," Leia laughs as he sticks out his tongue, "but I will not tell you his schedule. Use the Force to figure out when he's here."

Leia laughs haughtily, "Oh that's cute, Luke. As if I need the Force when I have my senatorial connections."

"Well then, Madame Senator," Luke mimes taking a bow even though from the way he is sprawled on his bed he can only vaguely nod, "I will have to bid you good-night. Say hi to Han for me."

"Will do, loyal subject," Leia laughs, and waves, "Sleep tight. Talk soon!" and with that the call blinks out.

Hope is a dangerous thing, that, once it pops into existence, immediately takes root often in the most inconvenient of places.

It's not as if the thought had not potentially crossed Luke's mind, that the small gifts might mean something in a different context, something more to Luke's liking, something close to wishful thinking. It is nice to imagine them as a form of courting, a way to express feelings o{r intentions which are not yet ready to be voiced. But then Luke reminds himself that the context is not the right one for the gifts to be seen as anything other than friendly gestures. Mando didn't like caf, the tea was as much for him as it was for Luke, the cards were a nice way to spend the time, the pudding was something sweet to share with the children for desert. Mando probably felt awkward for always having something for the children and nothing for Luke- not that he needed to at all! Luke is perfectly content without sweets, and anyways is always given the jogan-fruit ones because his padawans know he likes those best. 

A mean voice in the back of his head whispers that Mando is probably just doing it all out of a weird sense of Mandalorian obligation because Luke is training and taking care of his foundling.

A debt to be paid.

Nothing more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Din: Grogu here's 10credits, go see a star war
> 
> ahhhhh guys your kudos and comments have absolutely blown me awaaay, thank you so much for all your kind words!! I woke up to a full inbox and literally had to just lie there for a minute 🙈 
> 
> I really really love playing cards, used to always have a deck in my bag because they're just so easy to set up and pack back in again- and the "Unlucky in cards, lucky in love" was always the apology to anyone who lost 😜
> 
> Hope you like this second instaaaallment, the third one is coming sooooooon


	3. Keep Watch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahh this one is a day early because i'm going on a huge costco-trip tomorrow sooo here we go! 
> 
> on today's episode: child-rearing as a love language and that good old hurt/comfort

"Are you sure you don't mind?" Luke is certain he asks it for the nth time, checking over the few supplies he will take with him. He has his lightsaber hanging from his belt, the blaster strapped to his hip is loaded, there should be enough rations and a change of clothes in his bag.“I can call Leia, I’m sure she can be here soon enough, even on such short-notice. Or even Han. Or Chewie!”

Mando does indeed not seem to mind, nods for the nth time as well, and bounces Grogu in his arm from where the child has started to complain at all the commotion. With his other hand he holds Finn's little hand in his, who is looking similarly perturbed.  
"I am sure," Mando says, and the calm certainty he exudes is enough to soothe both Luke's and the children's nerves. "Your sister has more important things to do, and no offense to Han but I wouldn't immediately trust him with four small children."

Han had dropped off a delivery run a few weeks ago when Mando had coincidentally also been visiting. They hadn't been openly hostile, but Han wasn't the easiest person to get along with, and when Mando had mentioned the low value of Han's bounty after one too many badly-hidden taunts from the ex-smuggler- things had gotten a little bit... blaster-grabby.  
  


Luke winces, "Fair enough. But you're really sure?"

Mando nods again. "I’m already here. We will be keeping up with training until you’re back."

Luke puffs out a sigh, heart calming as he sees Nera nod from where she stands at Mando's shoulder, arm around Carn. "Really, Master Luke, we'll be fine," she nods, demeanour very serious for her age, "I can take over meditation, just like you asked."

He has to smile at her solemn expression, bows down to wrap both siblings in a hug, "Well then, Mando, you're in the best of hands." Finn gets a kiss on a soft and chubby cheek and Grogu burbles his support when Luke reaches out to give his tiny hand a squeeze. When he looks back up to try and meet Mando's gaze he thinks he catches a flicker of something, worry or some sort of pain, and an intense heat, but then it is gone and probably just Luke's imagination.

"I should be back in three days," he reiterates again, "Through hyperspace the journey to Bogano should only take a day, and I should find everything there easily enough. At least I hope so, who knows if everything is still alphabetised after 50 years, but we'll see right? So yeah, three days. "

"Luke," Mando doesn't interrupt him but the use of his name works well enough, and Luke shuts his mouth with a click. "I know."

Luke feels the blush coat his cheeks, "Right."

He slips his hands into the sleeves of his cloak and attempts to put on what Leia fondly calls _his Jedi alter-ego._ "Padawans, I expect you to be on your best behaviour. Look out for yourselves and listen to Mando. May the Force be with you. And I love you all very much."

There's solemn nods and a few glassy eyes as they all echo "May the Force be with you" in their tiny voices, but then Artoo beeps that he's slowly growing moss and Finn has to giggle.

"Yes, yes, we'll get going! I'll see you all in three days."

* * *

The temple had unsurprisingly been dark when he had landed, the children already in bed and fast-asleep by now. And Gods how Luke just wants to get to bed as well. The journey had been long, and with Artoo on such low battery Luke had done most of the flying alone. Which normally wouldn't be that big of a deal, but. Well. Bogano hadn't been as straight-forward as Luke would have hoped. There had been a goddamn defence system for the old archive buildings, somehow attuned to Force-Users and- Luke would be lying if he said he hadn't gotten his ass handed to him. But now his bag is full of old texts and even two holocrons, so he really can't help but think his (probably?) broken nose and the cut in his side are worth it. Even if it took a few or maybe four days longer than anticipated.

Artoo beeps something about docking-up in the landing bay, and rolls off. It's difficult to sneak but Luke is quiet on his way inside, steps soft when moving through the corridors. It's not necessarily guilt which compels him, but a jump under the refresher and a good healing-trance would set him right before he worries the younglings.

And ok maybe he doesn't need Mando to see him like this either.

He passes the training gym on his right and reaches the door to the kitchen which is thankfully still slightly ajar, soft light giving the faintest glow onto the stone floor. Nera likes to keep a light on when she grabs something to drink at night, so that's no surprise.

The door clicks shut oh so softly behind him and the breath Luke exhales is 95% relief.  
  


"I thought you had said three days?" a modulated voice asks, and Luke almost jumps out of his skin. With the way his nose is thrumming he hadn't noticed the other man at all, even though the bright green relief wafting over from Mando is so present in the Force that you could almost touch it.

Dank farrik.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," Luke says, and Maker he sounds as if he had swallowed gravel. He clears his throat to try and get rid of some of the scratchiness, "It took longer than I thought."

Mando gets up from where he was sharpening a vibroblade at the large kitchen table, tools meticulously arranged. "Why is that?"

Luke swallows and now his voice almost sounds normal. "Ah, just some unexpected complications," he waves his gloved hand and hopes it is enough. Thank the Gods he still has his hood pulled up, and in the low light he might get away with it, "Everything was fine in the end, so a resounding success overall."

Mando has come so very much closer, but the hallway to the sleeping quarters is just to his left, so if Luke can play this well- "I'm sorry I left you longer with the kids than planned, I'll get straight to bed and then you can be free to leave first thing tomo-"

A hand has grabbed Luke by the wrist of his prosthetic, stopping him from walking down the hall and Luke is sure he can feel the warmth through two layers of cloth and one layer of synth-skin. Mando turns him into the faint light of the kitchen and the sharp inhale confirms that Luke has been found out.

"It's not as bad as it looks," he sighs as Mando is already pushing back his hood, angles his face with two gloved fingers to get a better look, "A bit of meditation and I'll be right as rain, really Mando."

The other man huffs, and tugs at Luke's wrist that he still hasn't relinquished, "Sure, Jedi."

The title smarts more than his nose and if that isn't a surprise.

"Sit," Mando steers Luke to the seat he had been occupying until two minutes ago, and lets go to move to the sideboard cabinet. Luke's wrist tingles but he is pretty sure his hand had been fine when he had landed.

It's quiet, the only noise being Mando who putters around in the kitchen, the sound of the tap opening, water running, water stopping, a drawer opening, a cabinet being shut. Luke is already halfway drifted to sleep, face propped-up on his fist, when Mando pulls up a chair. The sound of the wood scraping over the stone tiles is loud enough to make him blink open an eye.

"Hey, look at me," the soft voice is an adequate motivation to open both eyes, and the warm, glove-less hand that starts wiping at the blood on Luke's face is enough to disperse any sort of fatigue. On one hand Luke would kill to see the Mandalorian's expression behind his visor, would kill for the chance to have some semblance of knowing what the other man is thinking. But the way his heart is already pounding loudly in his chest Luke is pretty sure that would be the end of him and he can't really be the one responsible for the extinction of the Jedi, now can he? Obi-Wan would never let him live it down.

Mando is exceedingly gentle, movements small and precise, re-dampening the cloth after every couple of strokes in the bowl he set on the table. The water is faintly pink when he considers the task done.

"So," Mando breaks the silence, and turns to the first-aid kit, "this counts as a _resounding success_ does it?"

Luke huffs a laugh, and winces as it pulls at his nose, "Trust me, it really does."

Mando makes a questioning noise and Luke has to distract himself somehow so this might as well be an invitation to start babbling, "Well did I ever tell you about the time I had to spend the night in a cut-open tauntaun on Hoth? Crawled in there with Han and three broken ribs, and trust me that really wasn't the worst part."

Mando hums, and places both hands on Luke's nose, "What were you doing on Hoth?"

"Oh you know," Luke braces himself, "Rebellion stuff."

Mando pauses, and the dichotomy between feeling the man's gloved and uncovered fingers on his face makes Luke's brain buzz, "Do I even want to know what you and Han were doing to end up crawling into a kriffing tauntaun?"

Luke sighs, "Well, we-" Mando snaps his nose back into place and Luke can only curse, loudly and colourfully, like the fucking farm boy he is, **dank ferrik** that hurts.

"Don't let the younglings hear that," Mando says, the dry humour obvious in his voice, but when he moves to apply the bacta he is careful. He sticks a patch over the nose, mindful to secure the break and to not catch the thin skin under the eyes, and another smaller patch one on the cut on Luke's cheek-bone. Luke looks up and hopes he can catch Mando's eyes behind the visor.

The other man moves back a bit, "Anything else?"

Luke shakes his head before he can really think about it, "No, no, thank you," moves to get up and then groans as the cloth stuck to his cut tears painfully open.

Mando's head snaps back to look at him, and Luke clenches his jaw.

"I'm fine, don't worry," he tries, but then Mando grips at his shirt and starts lifting it up and he can't quite bite back a wince.

" _Utreekov_ ," Mando huffs, "can you sit on the table? Come on-"

It is slow going, peeling the singed shirt from the already-half-formed scab and when it's gone the cut starts bleeding sluggishly again. It's not as deep as it could be, curves from the bottom left upward, towards Luke's clavicle, an inconvenient location to have to clean alone. Mando gets up to get fresh warm water and it is even more pink than before when Mando is done. Thankfully there are butterfly closures in the kit, so Luke's is spared the stitches. Five are able to hold everything more or less together until Luke can settle down for a quick healing trance.  
Not that he knows how he will ever actually manage that. Mando is all quiet focus and gentle hands, and every brush of his fingers makes Luke's heart jack-rabbit in his chest. It is completely ridiculous and entirely inappropriate. The man is his student's father, and a friend, and only doing him a favour anyway, is too kind not to, but has no similar feelings bubbling in his chest, get a grip get a grip _getagrip_ -

  
The final bacta patch is cool on the cauterised cut, and Luke can only sigh, slowly slip back into his cloak and finally slump over, now entirely exhausted.

"Thanks," he manages, rubs his face with his good hand and tries to slowly slip off the table. Mando doesn't move away immediately- there's a beat and then he takes a slow step back. Luke has to say something, somehow explain the situation, "I am sorry to have stayed away so long. I know it isn't what you signed up for."

Mando makes no indication that he has heard it, remains stock-still, "Are you apologising for the fact that I got to spend more time with my son? With the foundlings?"

"No, I- I just meant that," his head is buzzing and the painkillers are only slowly starting to kick in. The thrumming in his nose isn't exactly helping him find the right wording. "I told you three days, you're right," he sighs, "And I just apologise for taking longer, it wasn't my intention to- to derail your plans."

"The foundlings were worried," Mando says, still very still, "I was worried."

The guilt is bitter, gurgling in his stomach, "Mando, I-"

" _Din_ ," the man interrupts him. "My name. It's Din."

Luke feels like the world has stopped spinning, that the moon he is currently standing on has ground to a halt, no longer caught in Yavin's gravitational pull and, now untethered, will start floating out into space any minute.

"Din," he tries, and the syllable fits comfortably in the front of his mouth, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. Or the children."

Man- Din nods, still very tense and he shifts to rest his weight on his other foot. He nods again, moves as if to step back before he seemingly has a change of heart, and leans forward.

It's a soft press of the helmet, and Luke can only really register the coolness of the beskar against his forehead, can only hear a faint breath of air through the modulator before Din pulls back again.

" _Ni_ _baarti'gar_ ," he says, and his voice is even softer around the Mando'an words, "Go to bed. I'll keep the foundlings entertained until you wake up."

Luke swallows around the sudden difficulty to get a breath in.

"I will," he manages, and with a final nod Din moves away, gathers up the whetstones and his blades from where they were still arranged on the table, stows away the first-aid kit and pours out the now cold bloody water in the kitchen sink. He's gone down the hall before Luke really registers it.

Well this is a development.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am sososoooo glad people are enjoying this absolutely self-indulgent fic, seriously your comments mean the wooooorld to me- everyone in this fandom has just been too sweet. you can find me on tumblr at @jofngve btw, come yell at me there if you'd like 
> 
> stay safe everyone 💛
> 
> \---  
> Mando'a translations  
>  _Utreekov_ \- idiot  
>  _Ni_ _baarti'gar_ \- I care about you


	4. I want us both to eat well

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> on today's episode: feeding someone important minemals as a love-language, Force Tag (the game everyone's raving about) and lots of forehead-bonks

Luke wakes to the warm sunshine on his face, feeling mildly sore and entirely content. It's that sweet-spot of having naturally woken up, sleep still lingering at the edges, but awake enough to not immediately want to turn back over again.  
From the get-go it was very likely that Luke would nod off when he settled down to meditate the night before, and it did seem to have happened halfway through the healing trance- but the combination of meditation and sleep seems to have done the trick. The throbbing in his face has faded to a dull ache, and his side no longer feels as if it were actively on fire.

Definitely an improvement.

But a quick jump under the refresher might move things along even faster, so with one final stretch which makes something in Luke's shoulder pop, he rolls out of bed and moves to the bathroom. He must have forgotten his shirt in the kitchen, just hangs up his robe, wrangles off his boots and strips off the rest of his pants. He's due for laundry anyway.

A quick look in the mirror does make him wince though.  
  


His nose is spectacularly coloured, a weird mix of purples which are starting to turn a yellowish-green where the bacta-patch is holding everything together. The cut looks surprisingly good, but he'll leave the butterfly-closures and the bacta-patches on there until the evening at least. If Luke can squeeze in another healing trance when the kids have nap-time he should be good to go. The cut on his cheekbone is thankfully already healed and Luke carefully pulls off the small bacta-aid, trying not to think of how Mando had so gently stuck it there.

Thinking back the whole scene in the kitchen yesterday seems surreal, dreamlike. But Luke is relatively sure that even with his amount of sleep-deprivation he wouldn't have imaged Mando actually giving him is name.  
  


_My name. It's Din.  
  
_

It feels like a colossal step forward in some way. Luke is sure it means a lot to Din, the fact that Din chose exactly that moment to share it. Maybe it was a Mandalorian thing, after battle or something like that?  
He should ask beforehand though, in which situations it is alright to actually use it. The man seems to be so very private, what with the armour and the helmet, and Luke would hate to make Din uncomfortable, especially now. And Luke doesn't even want to unpack what exactly that helmet-touching-bonk-thing was. Din had usually only done it with Grogu, a few times with Nera and Finn and Carn, so- well. A warm, dizzying happiness is currently trying to expand from where it has found a home in Luke's stomach.

Force, better take a cold shower before things get out of hand.

When Luke finally steps out of his room the faint sound of happy conversation is already wafting down the hall. Luke pushes open the kitchen door and is met with the sight of Nera, Carn and Finn at the kitchen table, Grogu in the adapted high-chair, all carefully sipping something from their bowls which smells absolutely divine even from where he's standing.

Nera notices him first although she has her back to him, turns her head and immediately jumps up to rush up to him. Carn and Finn are not slow to follow and Grogu protests loudly against his confinement to the high-chair, before the child simply unlatches it himself and waddles over on his own.

"Oh, Uncle Luke," Nera sighs, brows furrowed, as she squeezes her arms around him, "what happened to your nose?"

"We missed you!" Finn complains, raises his hands to demand to be picked up.

Luke laughs, ignores how it pulls at his wound, kneels down to scoop Finn into his arms, and then add Carn to the hug as well. The little boy has grown surprisingly quiet compared to his usual loud nature, and Luke hugs him tight. "I am completely fine, just had a bit of a tussle with some droids," it seems to be the most simple explanation and the most readily understandable, "and you all had Mando here with you instead, didn't you? That seems like a good deal."

It seems to be the wrong thing to have said.

Carn suddenly bursts into tears, loud and shrill, and buries his head in Luke's shoulder. The spike of bright yellow fear makes even Luke's heart beat a bit faster, as he throws Din a look of pure confusion before wrapping his arms tightly around the boy, shushing him softly.  
"Oh Carn," he presses a kiss against the boy's brow but it only seems to make matters worse, the boy sounds like a fog-horn, "you know I'd come back, sweetheart. I wouldn't leave you alone with only Mando for company- how terrible, he's not even Force sensitive," Luke tries the humourous route and is rewarded with a wet hiccup of what might have otherwise been a giggle. With a sweep of his arms Luke grabs Nera and Finn and Grogu, and huddles them all close, "I will always come back for you- not even the strongest force in the galaxy could keep me away." Luke tries to spread the feeling of love and safety through the Force, the feelings he knows Grogu senses from his father, and slowly but surely the distress fades. A final squeeze and the children seem calmed, all given a final kiss, and Luke can look them all in the eye again.

"Now, what smells so very good in here?" Luke asks, and Finn thankfully is the first to jump up.

"Mando made bone-broth!" he says, elated, and Luke is immediately pulled towards the breakfast table.

Din had lingered back a bit, and Luke cannot exactly tell what his friend is feeling. There's a wash of warm orange, a bright flash of red, flecked in darker blues. But then Luke turns to actually look at Din, and he almost runs full force into the low bench of the breakfast table.

Din is not wearing his armour.

"It's really good, Uncle Luke," Finn intones, still holding Luke's real hand in his, and puts on the tone Luke always uses to convince the children of the benefits of anything green, "there's a lot of minemals in it."

"That's true," Din says, ladles some into a bowl, "lots of minerals which you could definitely need to fix that nose of yours."

Content that his teacher is getting fed, Finn climbs back into his seat.

Luke can't pull his eyes away from where Din stands at the stove, helmet securely in place but otherwise without his armour; no chestplate, vambraces and gloves gone, just in soft-looking brown pants, the top of his undersuit and his boots. Something is niggling in the back of Luke's mind. The image is completely weird, foreign, but not entirely new... was Din not wearing his armour last night as well?

Ok so maybe Luke had been more loopy yesterday than he had previously thought.  
  


"What are you doing up?" Din asks quietly, startling Luke out of his reverie. He tilts his helmet to look entirely at Luke although he still has the ladle half raised. "You should be resting, I told you I can watch the younglings."

Luke can actually feel the body-heat from this proximity, and as Din pushes the bowl into his hands Din's fingers brush against his and Luke almost drops the bowl.

"I-I feel much better," he manages, arranges the bowl in his grip, so that he doesn't immediately burn his fingertips and actually end up standing in a puddle of hot soup.

Din hums but it sounds doubtful, and he pulls the pot off the fire and turns to completely face Luke and his goddamn soup bowl. Luke is so sure his head will explode any second now from all the unfiltered attention.

"Well your nose does look better than yesterday," Din gives his professional opinion, "How's the cut?"

Luke nods, has to move some part of his body to make sure he is not actually frozen solid, "Yeah, much better."

Din crosses his arms, "Hm, alright," the material of his shirt stretches across his biceps, good Gods above, what has Luke done to deserve this, "But tell me when you're going to change the bacta-patches, I'll do it."

Not entirely trusting himself to be completely coherent if he were to open his mouth, Luke just nods.

The broth is really good though, and he goes back for seconds, which Din just notes with a tilt of his helmet and a wash of orange.

* * *

The weather is finally warm enough again for outside meditation and with the sun bright on his face and the younglings content in the Force it is so nice to slip under. The training bonds are strong, stretching between the kids and Luke, and he has to smile as he can feel the faint connection to Din, who is cleaning out his whistling birds somewhere further off. It's so relaxing that when Luke breaks the surface again, blinks his eyes back open, it feels like he is faintly buzzed. The children seem to be experiencing a similar high, endorphins rushing to their heads, leaving them hyper and giggly. 

"How about a game of Force-tag?" Luke suggests and there is large cheer, and then delighted shrieking as Luke starts-off. He is never entirely sure how this game goes, the children changing the rules as often as the day has hours, but he manages well enough for the first 10 minutes until he is pitifully out of breath. Jedi-training has nothing on kid-energy. 

"Shouldn't a Jedi master be able to keep up a little longer than that?" Din deadpans when Luke moves over to collapse in the grass next to him. 

Luke sticks out his tongue, "I'd like to see you run around longer, Mr. fearsome Mandalorian." 

Din huffs a laugh, and turns back to fiddling with one of those compressed-air cans, blowing out the dust from in-between the machinery, "Oh believe me, I managed far longer than that. Though I did have to ditch my armour to do it." 

Luke was not going to mention it, didn't know if it would be rude, but this seems almost fateful and oh so convenient a set-up not to take advantage of. "I wasn't going to ask," he says, starts ripping out blades of grass to have something to do with his hands, "is it a new development?" 

Din shrugs, "Maybe." He turns to look at Luke and the full attention is again almost too much, "Do you want it to be?" 

Luke reflexively feels how he shakes his head, "That hardly matters, Din." He glances at the children and back, and the words come without thinking, "I want you to feel comfortable. This is your home as well. I want you to be happy." 

The wind gently brushes through the leaves, an animal is chirping somewhere up in the trees, and the air smells like sunlight. 

Din just nods and looks over at the children as well. Grogu is perched on Finn's shoulders, holding his eyes closed with tiny hands, but Finn chases Carn and Nera as if he could see, all four shrieking with laughter. 

"I'm happy," Din says, voice very soft.

* * *

Unfortunately Din gets a call during dinner, steps outside to take it and when he comes back he seems tense.

"I need to get going," he sighs, gently strokes Grogu's ear when the child complains, "I'm going to pack up quickly, but I'll be right back."

"Oh, sure," Luke nods, puts down his spoon and leans over to help Carn with his napkin. "I'll pack you some supplies?"

Din nods, gives Finn's hair a ruffle and moves back to his room.

Din is back in under ten minutes, large bag slung over his shoulder and wearing his armour again. Luke has packed up two bundles of rations, slips in a few different bags of tea, fills a canteen with the left-over broth from this morning. Anything fresh will probably spoil but this should suffice.

They carry everything into the cargo hold of the smaller old pre-Republic ship Din had forked up Gods knows where. Luke always tries to convince him to get something else, Han really does have good connection for that sort of thing, knows someone on Bracca who really has eye for good ships- but Din had refused, shrugged, "It only needs to bring me back and forth."

"Buueeee," Grogu says from where he is nestled in Din's arms and the man softens, presses his forehead against his son's tiny one.

"He says you should come back really fast," Carn translates, rocks on the backs of his feet, "When will you be back, Mando?"

"I don't know, Carn'ika," Din answers, pinches his cheek, "I'll hurry back, as quick as I can."

"You shouldn't hurry, you should be careful," Nera corrects, takes her brother's hand.

Carn nods, adapts his mannerisms to fit his sister's. "May the Force be with you," he says, and it's the first time he has said it first.

"Yes, may the Force be with you," Luke echoes with Finn and Nera, and Grogu babbles it as well, words clear in his mind.

Din nods, replies, "This is the Way," as he always does, and when Nera moves to take Grogu off Din's hands, he presses his forehead against her's as well.

"Me too!" Carn complains, never one to be ignored, and Din huffs a laugh, kneels down to meet Carn's forehead, turns to Finn who giggles at the coolness of the metal.

Din gets back up, rearranges the bag still strapped across his back.

"Be careful when you change your patches," Din admonishes, "Ask Nera to help if you can't reach something."

Luke rolls his eyes, fond, "Din, don't worry. Believe me, I have enough experience with patching myself up on my own."

"That is not as reassuring as you think it is," Din grouses, and then leans forward. This time Luke can actually see it coming, but again does not move. When the beskar hits his forehead he gently reciprocates with a press of his own and there's a crackle through the modulator.

" _Ret'urcye mhi_ ," Din says, and then pulls back, "I'll see you next month. Or sooner."

Luke nods, and his heart is full.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Luke:** only the true of heart can make good soup  
>  **Din:** is that a Jedi-rule?  
>  **Luke:** no but it should be
> 
> a biiit of a shorter one this time around but the next one will be a doozy, so we'll get on with that in two days! 😉  
> I wanted to additionally thank you all for your engaaagement with this story, i’m so glad to know that you’ve been enjoying reading it as much as I’ve been enjoying wriiiitting it. It just means a lot to me, you all make my dayyy! 
> 
> until then, stay safe everyone 💛
> 
> \---  
> Mando'a translations  
>  _Ret'urcye mhi_ \- Goodbye  
>  _'ika_ \- diminutive suffix, added to a name as a very familiar or childhood form


	5. I'll let it go

Din comes back to Yavin IV after almost half a year.

Luke really doesn't want to admit how worried he had gotten after a month had passed without Din stopping by. After six weeks Luke had been embarrassingly close to calling Han to use some of his contacts to receive some sort of info on whether had anyone seen a particularly shiny Mandalorian.  
But thankfully Luke was spared that awkward conversation when he received a quick comm from the missing man himself. There was business Din needed to attend to and he would not be able to visit until the next month or the one after. There had been little else in terms of information and Luke had only replied a quick "thank you" for the heads-up, even though the oddity of the situation niggled at the back of his brain. Then there was the message two months ago that things were taking longer than expected- _I need more time to sort things out_ \- which Luke had again just replied to with a quick "thank you" before adding, "Are things alright?"  
"Yeah, just annoying. Talk soon."

And that had been that.

Din had never stayed away so long, had always managed to slip away for even half a day once two months back. That time Din had seemed especially tired, painted a pale grey in the Force, until picking up his son and being offered a cookie by Nera. The grey had been washed away, replaced by a content warm orange, and it had stayed that way until Din had re-boarded his ship.

So this was all rather odd.

"What, no Mando this time?" Han smirks as he hands Luke one of the crates full of little starter plants when he stops by on his next delivery.

Luke had started to break up some of the ground behind the temple when the children were playing in the garden. It would be convenient to grow some own vegetables, maybe some fruit, and it would be a nice thing for the children. Luke could probably get the ground turned over with the Force, have it done in an hour or two. But there is something cathartic about doing it just with a spate and his own two hands. Maybe it's true what they say about 'taking the boy out of the farm, but not the farm out of the boy'. Who knows. But in the evenings Luke is tired, falls asleep immediately without being able to lie awake and miss anyone in particular.

"Nope, not this time," Luke smiles, hopes it's not too brittle, and carefully sets the box down.

Han tilts his head.

"Has he not been," his friend scratches at his neck, "around? Since last time?"

Luke shakes his head, checks the soil of a tiny plant with two fingers. Hm, they would need to be watered soon, it's a bit dry.

"Do you want me to ask around?" Han asks, and it's always easy to forget that Han does have a rather soft heart rattling around that chest of his. Not that he wouldn't vehemently deny it.

"No, don't worry, Han," Luke smiles and this time it's genuine. "Really. Just odd. And I guess I'm spoiled, have gotten used to an extra pair of hands around here."

Han looks a tad awkward. "Do you want me to stay? Lando is back with Leia, so Chewie and I can definitely-"

Luke laughs, claps his friend on the back, "No, Han, really. I'm pretty sure meditation and four tiny Force-users would kill you."

Han inhales, raises his eyebrows, and blows the air out in one long huff. "Yeah. Probably." But he knocks his shoulder against Luke's, "But I'd do it for you, kid."

"Yeah yeah, old man," Luke shoves him back, laughs when he catches Han by surprise, "keep your charity, we'll just barely survive."

Han smirks, pops his collar, "Oh, you don't know what you're missing out on."

Luke squeezes one eye shut, looks at him doubtful, "Mmmmmmm, I think I might. Pass."

Han splutters and Luke cackles at his friend's objections, and lifts another box.

"But seriously," Han restarts the topic when they've finished, "I can keep my eyes and ears pealed. It's no trouble."

Luke sighs, lowers his cup of caf, "No, really. It's fine Han. I mean, he's a friend, I'm just worried because he normally always visits Grogu as often as he can."

"Yeah because the bucket-head has no other reason to come here," Han laughs and takes a large swig of caf. It's mostly cold already anyway.

"Han." Luke fixes him with a look, "It is."

Han raises his eyebrows, "Suuuuuuuuuure," he agrees into his mug, completely sarcastic.

"Han, I'm serious! Don't listen to what Leia has told you, it's completely ridiculous."

"What? The idea that some dashing rogue has set his eyes on you and decided your ass is cute enough to try and get with?" Han smirks, wiggles his eyebrows, "Believe me, it's not unheard of."

Luke gives his arm a smack and rolls his eyes, "Sure, Han. That really applies here. Just drop it."

"Ok, wait, I'll drop it, I'll drop it," Han raises his hands in surrender, when Luke gives him a halfhearted glare, "I'm just saying- I don't think bounty hunters and smugglers are cut from completely different cloths and you know what a dumbass I was, way back when, so. I don't know, just keep that in mind."

It's great advice.

Really.

But more time passes and that time is then used to mull over the exact specifics as to why it is passing without anything happening and it is not exactly helpful. What was keeping Din occupied? What was he doing? How serious was it? Did he need help and wouldn't ask for it?  
Weeks pass and the focus of Luke's investigation ends up at a not-entirely-comfortable thought: What if Din wasn't coming to visit because of the last time he was there? Something had changed that night, or more accurately the day after. Honesty, truth, facts- they had a tendency to come back and bite Luke in the ass. Maybe he had revealed too much of his true feelings then, had made Din uncomfortable. Their good-bye had been amiable enough, not that much different than the times before- perhaps the only change being the friendly head-butt.

But.

Maybe that was just it.

Din had tried to convey his decidedly non-romantic feelings in a way that would allow Luke to get the hint on his own. Luke knows the Mandalorian well enough now to know that he wouldn't beat around the bush to voice what he is thinking: but simultaneously the man is just selfless enough to rather be uncomfortable for a bit than cause hurt feelings.

So now Luke feels a bit sick with guilt and anxiety and embarrassment and a healthy dose of shame. And then he feels selfish for even feeling upset at all. It's not like he was entitled to Din's company or anything else for that matter! The man only came for his son, for Grogu, and for the other younglings maybe.  
Nothing more.  
Luke has just been caught-up in his own head once again without heeding the lessons Master Yoda tried so hard to instil in him. Jedi do not yearn, Jedi do not covet, and Jedi certainly don't pine about unrequited feelings.

Kriffing terrific.

* * *

Time passes and Grogu and the other padawans are a little sad, but not heartbroken, simply excited for when Din does come back. The summer months are spent running around outside, catching frogs and bugs, going swimming in the small pond in the woods, and trying to figure out how to use the Force to guess what colour Luke is thinking of. The days are long and the nights are short, and life is good.

And six months should be more than enough time for Luke to get over the silly infatuation, borne only of shared hours and no other alternatives.

'Should' being the crux of the matter.

The first blip of Din in Yavin IV's atmosphere makes Grogu screech in excitement and the other's reactions are not much different. They're all quick to bow out of the gym from where they had been practising simple katas, and Luke waves them off with a smile. But he stays back, walks into the kitchen to prepare some cold tea, careful not to appear as if he were deviating from the usual routine too much, even though he already is. Yes, Luke let's the kids greet the man first, does not follow them outside like he usually would- who knows what his treacherous heart would do. He hears the younglings shout and laugh, talking over each other, scrambling for attention that Luke will never think to be envious of.

The voices grow louder and Luke hears Din laugh softly as Carn and Nera bicker. He pours everyone tea into their (now handpainted!) cups, and when he turns to see Din push open the kitchen door with Grogu on his shoulder and Carn riding piggy-back Luke pointedly ignores the squeezing of his heart.

"Mando," he smiles, hopes the serenity he is projecting calms the nerves bubbling in his stomach. "It is good to see you."

Din pauses, but then steps further into the room. "It's good to be back," he says, modulator as even as always.

Grogu looks back and forth between them, maybe sensing something of Luke's apprehension (the child is really too perceptive with the Force), but then Finn pulls at Din's hand, _Mando_ , w _e have a new book, it's all about poisonous animals, you have to seeeee it Mando,_ and the moment passes and the Mandalorian is being pulled away to learn everything about all poisonous animals that can be found on Coruscant.  
  


Din is thankfully distracted until dinner and Luke just watches the man feed his son and try to follow Nera's very detailed recount of the kata she has nearly perfected. Luke really should begin to re-think of the man as Mando. He doesn't want to let the name slip on accident, it just seems cleaner to use the moniker like everyone else. Luke doesn't say much at dinner, averts his gaze when Di- Mando raises his helmet to drink, but fixes him a plate like always when the younglings have finished.  
"Off to bed, padawans," Luke has to smile at their objections, grumbled through yawns and accompanied by a lot of eye-rubbing. They are all not difficult to shepherd into their beds. One comprehensive tooth-brushing check, three last good-night kisses, and Luke softly shuts the last door.  
  


Luke feels Din come into the kitchen while he is washing the dishes but does not turn to look at him.

When he does look over, it is to see Din standing there with his empty plates. "You can just place that on the counter, thank you," Luke smiles though he knows it is the one Leia always smacks him for. _Don't Jedi-smile at me you nerd, it's so creepy!_

There is a faint clink of ceramic on the stone counter but the aura doesn't move, and the uncomfortable air expands, a faint mustard-green-yellow thing in the Force that makes the hairs on Luke's arms stand at attention.

"I-," Din, no **Mando** , starts, but then pauses, "is everything okay?"

"Of course," Luke replies, air faux-relaxed, lets the water drip off a plate and places it in the drying rack, "why would it not be?"

Mando shifts.

"I don't know. Just a feeling."

"Everything is fine, no need to worry," Luke searches for cutlery in the foamy water, finds two forks and a spoon, "Grogu has improved nicely over the last few months, I am sure he will be excited to show you tomorrow."

A short nod.

"And," Gods give him strength, "are you... alright?"

Just dry the cutlery.

"I am good, thank you."

The other man actually fidgets, taps his bare fingers on the counter in a short staccato and Luke rips his gaze away from where he had started staring. Din took off his gloves for his son, to bring him to bed, this is not for you to look at. Luke focuses on the last cup, puts it to the side to dry, opens the plug in the sink to let the dirty water swirl and run-off into the pipes below.

Inhale, _Iamonewiththeforceandtheforceiswithme,_ exhale.

"I was hoping to get a bit of archiving-work done tonight," Luke hears himself say, hides the hands he wants to reach out with behind his back. "I would be in my study if you need anything else? Han brought me some tea with my last delivery, it’s in the cupboard above the sink, so just help yourself."

He doesn't really wait for Din's slow nod, just gives another smile- this one not as serene as the one before and more tight in the corners, and manages to hush through the correct door, finally safe.

Luke is a coward.

A coward and a bad friend and oh so greedy for things he should not want.

* * *

The next day is somehow worse than the evening before.

Luke wakes from a restless sleep, guilty anxiety gurgling at the back of his throat making it difficult to swallow anything but his own badly burned caf at breakfast.

The morning mediation does not help much. While Din's presence was always a soft warm thing, comforting, always in reach, it has somehow grown laser-sharp, hot and bright, and so difficult to ignore. Instead of being able to acknowledge it and let it wash into the stream of the Force as usual, it is like a buzz, an annoying pinging that demands all of Luke's attention.

The padawans are confused when meditation-time is cut short, faintly aware of something being not quite aligned, and Luke really has to stop this before it goes any further. He scoops up Grogu who already had his little hands raised and walks over to the child's father who thankfully has again donned his armour as always.

"I thought the two of you might want a day for yourselves," Luke offers, handing Grogu over to the other man, "You have had so much time apart, he has missed you." Grogu does immediately start babbling in agreement, taps his little hands against his father's helmet, and his happiness makes some of the shame in Luke's stomach dissipate.

Din pauses as if he might say something, but then nods, a jerky shake.

The relief Luke feels almost makes him lightheaded, "Great, why don't you take something with you to eat? Make a day of it." He simply has to stroke Grogu's cheek when the child gives a excited coo, "We can't have this little one decimate the entire planet's frog population."

Din simply nods again, some sort of tension in his shoulders, but then he turns to cuddle his son closer, "Will do."

He looks back up, "We will be back for dinner?" and it is almost a question.

"Great!" Luke says again, nods with a smile, "Take your time, we'll keep something warm for you."

Training does go smoother after Luke feels the pair's Force signature slowly start to move through the forest to the east.

But Maker this is not a permanent solution.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun duuuuuuun - here comes the angst 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing Han and trying to incorporate his mannerisms a little bit so i hope that worked out like i planned it out in my heaaad
> 
> [ALSO: we know it has gotten bad because i have actually created a playlist for this insanity you can find it here: https://spoti.fi/3cbt1oU - it is an even split of 80s pop and songs with too-accurate lyrics] 
> 
> i am not sure yet if i have to split the next chapter - it's currently at 5k and i stiiiill have things i want to include but idk so let me know what you would prefer!
> 
> and guys i need a blushing emoji because every time i read your comments my head just goes 🍅 
> 
> stay saaafe, and until next tiiime 💛


	6. Are you sure?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grogu: really? right in front of my ~~ salad ~~ stew?

Luke actually makes dinner earlier than usual today, prepares sandwiches and cut up fruit for the children to eat in the den, if they promise to be careful. There's an audio-story playing, and the only sound to be heard is the soothing voice of the narrator and very quiet chewing, none of the three padawans wanting to miss what happens to the lost zoo animals during their journey back home.  
Luke has a pot of stew staying warm on the stove for Grogu, and too soon he feels the little one's Force signature near the temple closely tied to that of his father. Grogu is excitedly babbling something when Din pushes open the door, something about Carn making a funny joke the other day and Luke can feel the happiness pulse around both of them, bright orange and oh so warm. He can't help but smile as Grogu smacks his tiny hands against Din's helmet, loudly complaining that he wants it off.

"Later, _ad'ika_ , food first," the man hushes, somehow exactly understanding what his child is saying and at the mention of food Grogu becomes very keen-eared.

"I hope there's enough for both of you," Luke laughs, and Din turns to look at him, as he goes to grab a bowl, "What did you two get up to?"

"Just went exploring," Din says, setting Grogu into his high-chair. The child sends images of lush green leaves and a small stream through the Force and Luke hums, ladling the steaming liquid into the bowl, picks out a few more pieces of meat for good measure.

"That looks nice, Grogu," Luke smiles, and hands Din the bowl, "If you'd like you can go out tomorrow as well-" he calls forward a spoon from somewhere and Grogu laughs as he catches it but then Luke remembers, "I mean- if you have the time? Mando?"

Din carefully puts the bowl down. "I do."

Luke smiles, suddenly nervous again, "Great!"  
Ok, what could he busy himself with now? There's no dirty dishes to distract himself with yet and he can't just randomly start rearranging the spice cabinet, right?  
  


"I wanted to-" Din starts, keeps an eye on how Grogu is carefully spooning stew into his mouth, "to talk to you. Later maybe. About where I've been."

A not particularly small part of Luke's brain starts screaming.

"Oh, you don't have to," Luke says hurriedly, raises his hands defensively, "I was just worried something was wrong- really, you don't need to explain, it's your business."

"I know, I really didn't want to stay away so long," Din sighs, helps Grogu with a piece of meat which does not want to move onto his spoon, "I just- after what you said last time I was here, I thought it would be for the best."

"Yeah," Luke hears himself say, Gods this hurts more than he expected it to, "yeah, I understand."

Din sighs again, a crackle through his modulator, "Well I still didn't think it would take so long. But I wanted to make sure everything was worked out."

_Make sure you got everything worked out,_ a mean voice in Luke's head supplies.

"Anyway, I hope things can go back to normal now."  
  


Yup. Cool, yes.  
  


"Sure!" Luke breathes, "Yeah, sorry, I get it, sure."

Din looks over, "What are you sorry for?"

"Just-" Luke gestures. Words are difficult to find right now with how his head is buzzing, "that you had to stay away so long. Because of me."

"It wasn't a bother," Din says, "now everything is taken care of, and things can go back to normal."

Something about the complete lack of emotional response makes Luke feel as if his insides have been scooped out with clawed hands. Why him? Why does he have to exist in his own kitchen, empty and hollow, while Din just gets to stand there, safe beneath his helmet, completely unaffected. It's not fair, Force, Luke is going to be sick.

"Uh, well- um," Luke coughs, tries to free his throat from the acid nipping at the back of it, "I don't think I can- like, immediately go back to normal."

Din turns, head tilted, "Why not?"

Maker, Luke just wants to SCREAM.

But- he will just breathe. Luke is pretty sure this is what Master Yoda meant for his breathing-exercises to be used for.

"I'm sorry, Mando," he says, let's the mask slide on, oh this is much better, "I will just need a bit of time. I apologise if this causes any inconvenience, but it will be for the best."

Din stands very still and then Grogu loudly knocks his spoon against his now empty bowl. Silently Din lifts him out of his chair, and places him down when the child starts wiggling. Grogu throws them both a look that is almost reproachful and skitters off to join the more mature children in the den.

"I don't understand," the other man says, slowly, "things just took longer, I wanted to tell you all about it anyway."

Okay, Luke will just finish ripping off this band-aid, sharp pain is always preferable to what this will end up as if he doesn't, prolonged like soft taffy, gumming up his insides, "I understand. I know that I overstepped, and I’m sorry. But things can't stay exactly the same, Mando."

"Din!" the man corrects, forcefully almost. Luke's words, meant to soothe, seem to agitate the man, fists clenched at his sides, "Luke, I gave you my name, I- please!”  
  


"Uncle Luke?" Nera sticks her head through the door and they jump apart, Maker, Luke has completely forgotten they were just standing in the kitchen, "Should we bring the plates back?" The girl wrinkles her brow, "Is everything ok? It feels weird in here."

Luke tries to smile, knows it is an awkward one, it pulls oddly at his cheek, "Yes, everything's alright- that would be great, Nera, thank you."

She nods, walks back into the den and Luke can hear her start asking Carn and Finn to help gather everything together.

"We should bring the children to bed," Luke tries, starts to turn but Din steps in front of him, basically blocking his way, with the sink at his back. He takes Luke's gloved hand, thank the Force for two layers of cloth dampening some of the warmth, and Din squeezes it almost forcefully.

“I- I don't know what you are talking about," Din says, voice urgent, "but please, Luke” he breathes and the words sounds brittle, “please just- let me explain,“ he repeats as if Luke would ever be able to deny him anything.

"I- ok," Luke exhales, though the few spoken words have already been way too exhausting. He feels as if someone had wrung him out and left him out to dry, all twisted up and completely battered.

Din nods, lets go of his hand and starts walking backwards, keeping his gaze on Luke until he has to turn to walk into the den.  
  


“Finn’ika don’t carry everything at once, come on I’ll help."

* * *

The sound of the door quietly closing behind Din when he comes back into the kitchen sounds faintly like a bombshell, but Leia would call that sort of comparison dramatic so Luke doesn’t think it.

He has made tea in preparation. It’s the strong grassy one, Din’s favourite, and ok maybe he is still trying to remain in the man’s good graces.

But Luke does not hand Din his cup, just puts the empty vessel on the counter and pours it halfway full, though then he notices how that might have been a precaution against a non-existent threat: Din is wearing his gloves again.  
  


No risk of brushing hands.  
  


“I want to apologise,” Luke begins and looks at a point somewhere on the far wall behind Din, “for earlier today. I believe I made you feel unwelcome, and that was never my intention. I-“ Gods this is difficult. Who had ever come up with this whole idea of ‘being an adult’, how utterly unnecessary. “I meant what I said. Half a year ago. This is your home as much as Grogu’s and you are always welcome.” Luke shifts, has to add the caveat although the answer might kill him, “If you still want it to be.”

Din stays completely motionless, face turned to look down into his cup.

“So, I am sorry,” Luke adds. Had he apologised or only said that he wanted to apologise? Better safe than sorry, _haha_ , “it will not happen again.”

Din nods and not-quite-relief fills Luke’s stomach, but at this point he’ll take anything. Whew ok.

“I-,” the other man suddenly starts, pushes off from where he had stood, braced against the kitchen counter, “I don’t- Why are you apologising?” Din finally manages and he sounds close to angry but not quite. “What for? I- I’ve been wracking my brain, I just don’t- understand,” he seems to be forcing the words out, pushing them through clenched teeth with a weird sort of desperation.

Now it’s Luke’s turn to be faintly confused, the anxiety coming back, “What for? Just, like I said: making you feel unwelcome?”

Din shakes his heads, wrings his hands, “No, no before that. Before- you said you overstepped, that you were sorry, that things can't go back? To normal? That you were sorry about that too- what did you mean?”

Luke is reeling. If he didn’t know Din so well he would think the man was being needlessly cruel, needlessly pulling this long to teach Luke a lesson.   
But he isn't, so Luke takes a breathe and braves the flames, “I will not apologise for my feelings for you.” The blood is rushing in his ears and it is difficult to hear his own words, “But I do apologise for overstepping with them in mind: I am aware they are unrequited, but that is not your worry and I’m sorry if I made it feel like it was. But I will need a little bit of time to adjust. I had expected it to be easier.”

Luke looks at Din and hopes he can catch his eyes through the visor, “That’s what I meant.”

The other man is a statue, as still as a column of salt, and then Din raises both hands and rips the helmet from his head.

There is an explosion in the Force, a burst of colour so bright Luke actually has to squint and then he slaps his hands in front of his face.

"Din!" he shouts, Maker, he doesn't even know what feeling are his and which are Din's, in this weird whirlpool, it's very disorienting, "What are you doing!?"

"You- you have, have feelings for me?"

"What!?" Luke yelps, what is happening right now. “Yes!? What do you think we’ve been kriffing discussing for the past hour?” He is aware how shrill his voice is but **dank ferrik** this has just been a very emotionally taxing day, Luke deserves a bit of hysteria. The intensity is starting to die down a little bit, the colours pulsing behind Luke's eyelids just a faint rosy pink, hopeful, though tinged with nervous yellow.

"Luke, please," Din's voice is much closer now, as if he were right in front of him, "Look at me, _gedet'ye_."

And then there's hands encircling his wrists, and oh Maker, the buzzing in Luke's head is back and he let’s Din pull his hands off his face and Luke slowly peels open his eyes.

Eyes. Hair, dark and tousled. Eyes just as dark but oh so soft, a curved nose, hair curling at the edges, dark dark eyes, mouth, lips pressed tight, musta-  
  


"You have a mustache," Luke blurts out and Din pauses, then laughs clear and bright and unmodulated and oh Luke's chest is going to catch fire right before we melts into a puddle onto the stone floor.

"Yeah," Din just smiles, the barest curve of his mouth.

Luke knows he's staring, knows he shouldn't, but Maker, he can't help himself. He's hungry for any look he can get, famished really, for the shape of Din's brow, for the way laughter lines and dark lashes frame his eyes, for the curve of his upper lip, for the dark stubble softening the otherwise sharp cut of his jaw. Maybe if Luke looks long and hard enough now he’ll be sated for the rest of his life.

Almost too late Luke realises he’s been reaching upward, forward towards Din’s face and the man makes no indication of holding him back from where he still has Luke’s wrist in his grip.

“Sorry,” Luke inhales, but Din is looking at him too, with that complete focus that was almost too much even through the visor and is now- almost unbearable.

“Luke,” Din says and Luke can see how his mouth forms the name, his name, and oh Luke wants to never look at anything else again.

And then Din shifts (oh this was it then, kriff, just two seconds more, please) and now without any beskar in the way, slowly touches his forehead against Luke’s. It’s the barest of contacts, butterfly light, but when Luke gently presses back Din sags as if his strings were cut, lets go of Luke’s wrists and drops his hands to grip at Luke’s waist.

“I-“ Din breath is ragged as if he had just run a mile under Tatooine’s twin suns, “I thought I had lost you- because I stayed away so long, I didn’t mean to.”

Luke gently reaches up, gently places his hands on Din's armoured forearms, “I know,” it seems to be the only logical reply but Din shakes his head, a minuscule action with how their heads are bowed together. “No, I really didn’t," Din intones, "I never want to leave anymore, and every time was harder and then you were so different when I finally came back and I thought I had ruined everything because I left.”

“You haven’t,” Luke replies, “don’t worry, Din. We’re still friends, don’t worry.”  
  


Din jerks back, breaks the contact but does not move his hands from where they are holding onto Luke. His eyes bore into Luke's, unfiltered, and oh jeez this is something to get used to. "Luke." he says, the name a whole sentence. "I have been in love with you for the past year. I don't only want to be friends."

During the past few minutes, well more like the past hour, it had felt like Luke had been balancing on a tightrope, trying very hard not to fall into the depths below, with any push enough to topple him over the edge. The feeling now is not unlike slipping, and realising the earth was only 10cm under you, like missing a step when walking down the stairs. Luke can almost feel the impact in his knees, from where he lands on solid ground.

"Wh-what?" he stutters, "In lo- the past year? In love?! Since when? WHAT?"

Din shifts and now Luke can finally match a facial expression to the movement. Eyes flicking to the side, lips pursed, Din looks almost bashful.

"I-" he licks his lips, "when I brought you... the pudding."

Luke's mind reels, "The blue-milk pudding?" Gods, how long ago was that, surely a year, if not longer, "You've been in LOVE with me since then? WHAT? Maker, why didn't you say anything?"

Din shrugs, entirely shy, and the expression is probably the most endearing thing Luke has ever seen, "I don't know. It didn't come up."

Luke feels as if he has been kicked by a bantha. He doesn't think he's ever been so blind-sighted by anything in his life. But then he starts thinking-

"Wait, so- the tea? The cards?"

There's an honest to Gods blush dusting Din's cheeks, and he moves a hand to scratch at his cheek, "Maybe? It just seemed- easier, I guess."

"Easier?" Luke echoes, and he can't help the grin that starts to overtake his face at the sight of this ridiculous, ridiculous man, "Seriously? I thought you just really hated my caf!"

Din raises an eyebrow, his grin more of a smirk, "Oh trust me, I do- I have no clue how you are even able to brew it like that much less drink it."

Luke laughs, he feels so light, as if he will loose the gravity he just discovered, will float up to the ceiling, "It is an art! A valuable skill taught only to the most talented Jedi."

"Hmm, I'm sure," Din hums, leans back down to press their foreheads together.  
  


But Luke is too nosy.

  
"But, seriously. Din." He meets Din's eyes, it's not too hard what with them being 2cm apart, "Why didn't you say anything? I was so sure I was imagining things."

The Mandalorian sighs, looks downwards, starts fiddling with the bunched-up fabric of Luke's shirt from where he has re-placed his hands on Luke's hips. "I thought," Din starts, pauses, "That you knew. Could feel it with the Force. But were being polite and not mentioning it, because of the whole no-attachments thing."

There is no way that Din can't hear the loud beating of Luke's heart in his chest. "Oh," he breathes, with some sort of understanding.

"Yeah," Din huffs, half a laugh, breath warm on Luke's face, "I did almost say something, when you came back from Bogano. All cut up. But it wasn't my place. We weren’t clan." Luke stays silent, can feel that there is more coming and he's not wrong. "And then you said that about-" Din furrows his brow, "this being a home. For me as well. I thought you were offering but then-"

"I said that we can't go back!" Luke completes, suddenly horrified. "You thought I was taking back the offer!"

Din sighs and moves away, pulls his hands back, face pained, "I thought, that I had taken too long. Arranging everything." Din wrings his hands, “That you were upset I had abandoned you all, but I really didn't want to, I-"

He stills as Luke reaches out, and takes Din’s hands in his, turns them palms-upwards, looks at the worn leather. "Din, I would never recant that invitation," Luke says, voice soft, and now it's his turn to be honest, "I thought I had said too much, confessed too much of my feelings, had made you so uncomfortable that you left to give me some space. To have my feelings die down. So when you wanted things to go back to how they were, I felt- foolish."  
  


The silence is deafening, and Din is oddly still again.  
  


"And," he sounds hoarse, and when Luke looks up Din's expression is carefully guarded, "have they. Died down?"

Luke moves very slowly, as if approaching a spooked animal. He takes a step closer again, tilts his head upwards and slightly to the left, his pace truly glacial, and then waits for Din to close the distance, which the other man does with a shuddering inhale.

It is a cautious thing, a tender press of lips but it feels like coming home, Din's mouth warm and soft. The Force hums and the rush is insane, building and building, and when Luke presses closer and Din tilts his head the wave breaks. Luke pulls back, his knees are weak and he has to grab at Din's forearms to steady himself.

Din seems similarly affected, gaze hazy as he looks at Luke, but then he smiles still shy. "I'll take that as a 'no'?" he asks, and Luke has to laugh, the bubble in his chest bursting as he moves to wrap his arms around Din's neck and pull him down to bonk foreheads again.

"You would be correct," Luke smiles, and he can finally tell that the hopeful pink happiness is not only coming from him; it's practically radiating off Din. And, because he finally can, Luke adds, "I love you."

Din stills, goes rigid.

Oh **kriff.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK disclaimer, I know this is probably not how the Force works, buT! my rules! I wanted to be dramaaatic. 
> 
> Thiiis chapter is early i couldn't keep you all hanging that much longer and i have day full of meetings tomorrow so- here it is! (ok, I know there's a cliffhanger, but thiiiis is the chapter i had to split, i hoope it's not too bad. I should have the next chapter up by Thursday/Friday) 
> 
> hope you liked it anyway, let me know what you think, i always love hearing everyone's favourite paaarts, your comments are literally such a source of seratonin
> 
> stay saafe out there! 💛
> 
> \---  
> Mando'a translations  
>  _ad'ika_ \- little one, son, daughter  
>  _'ika_ \- diminutive suffix, added to a name as a very familiar or childhood form  
>  _gedet'ye_ \- Please  
> 


	7. Who has the time?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (quick heads-up, the rating has gone uuuuup *cough* so be aware of that  
> → if you would like to skip it just search for "He can hear how Din gets up, stands warm and solid between his knees." and you should be fiiiine) 
> 
> fun fact: in my drafts this chapter as just called "God finally" - so take that as you will 😉

_"I love you."_

_Din stills, goes rigid._

_Oh **kriff**._

"Sorry," Luke winces, laughs a bit, breathless and awkward, "I just- You don't have to-" but he doesn't get any further than that because Din's mouth crashes into his, effectively cutting-off any words Luke might have still had on his tongue.

"Don't-" Din gasps, voice rough as he pulls back, "-apologise, I-" his mouth is back on Luke's, and he presses impossibly closer, "love you more." There are no thoughts left in Luke's head, all necessary functions have been redirected to kissing Din, and when he tilts his head just right and nips at Din's lower lip he can hear the man's breath stutter and then sharply inhale.  
Luke scrambles to grab at his armoured shoulders when he feels Din's hands slide down to the back of his thighs, and effortlessly lift him up and onto the kitchen island, and **oh hello**. Another quick nip of his bottom lip and Din's mouth falls open for Luke to slip his tongue in.

It's not the most skilful, not necessarily refined, but Force who gives a kriff. Luke sneaks his hands up into Din's hair, threads his fingers through dark curls, and gives an experimental tug. Din keens, a broken off sound, grips at Luke's hips, hands hot like brands, and Luke uses the opportunity to hook his ankles behind Din's back.

"Menace," the man exhales, and Luke just has to grin, something about Din being so breathless making his stomach grow oh so warm.

“I’m completely innocent!” Luke laughs, strokes through Din’s hair with blunt nails and relishes in how he can hear Din’s ragged breathing, how he shudders against him.

“That is-“ Din pulls back and Luke nearly whines before Din’s mouth is suddenly pressed under his jaw, “a bold-faced,” he trails further down, “lie.”

It feels as if he's being devoured, flames licking up the walls of his stomach. There is a constant feedback loop of arousal, euphoria, relief and urgency, oh the urgency, the Force practically singing with it and Luke is drowning, wants to drown, loose himself in this sensation of having Din so close that they could practically melt together.  
  


So it takes immense effort to form any sort of coherent thought.  
  


"Din-“ he tries but it’s more of an inhale, “Din, wait-“

Din immediately pulls away and there is a rush of something, a nervous puff of guiltfearshame in the Force, a sickly green, it is so weird that without the helmet Luke can immediately tell what the man is emoting. But Luke thankfully still has his fingers in Din’s hair, keeps him from moving too far away, only enough to press their foreheads together again. “I don’t want to move too fast,” Luke says, out of breath, vibrating out of his skin. “I mean, I do, maybe, but do you? Just, I don’t want to rush if you’d rather not.”

“I don’t think we’re rushing if you don’t,” Din breathes, eyes sharp and unblinking with his full attention, “You don’t know how many times I’ve thought about taking you apart in this kitchen.”

The little blood that was still there immediately rushes out of Luke’s head. He feels lightheaded.

“Y-you have?” He manages, Force he is so proud of himself, of being able to communicate anything at all as Din rubs small circles into his hip.

“You have no idea,” Din’s voice is so soft, slightly raspy at the edges but he doesn't elaborate and it’s making Luke feel feral. “So,” the way Din is pressing his thumb into the juncture between Luke's thigh and his hip is entirely too distracting, “I wouldn’t mind.”

Luke nods, has to lick his lips with how dry his mouth has gotten, sees how Din follows the movement, eyes dark, and then the man groans and slots their mouths together again.

“Gods, Luke,“ and now Din sounds absolutely wrecked and the arousal spikes, “Please,” his one hand shifts to the inside of Luke’s thigh, thumb slowly stroking the thin fabric, “can I?” And Like can only nod, can only kiss Din, hard and sloppy. And Force, Din palms him through his pants and Luke is going to combust, he’s already so hard it’s painful, straining against the fabric, and he is not going to last long. And then Din asks, breathless, “Can I blow you?” and Luke really should go pick out his gravestone right now.

This is ridiculous, utterly ridiculous, Luke is too old to be doing this, he's not sure he would be able to sense anything in the Force if one of the children were to wake up, but that is only what a tiny background part of his brain is carefully considering. The rest is just hot, burning really, it feels as if his head is on fire, as Din undoes the ties of his loose linen pants, pulls them down and immediately puts his hands on him. Din grabs him by the hips, pulls Luke a bit closer to the edge and drops to his knees with a soft thump. Luke could almost come from that sight alone but then Din looks up through dark lashes, keeps eye-contact as he bites at the finger of his glove and pulls it off with a rough tug and Luke knows he is fucking done for, Force this will be over embarrassingly quickly.

The first press of tongue is alright, and Luke focuses on how Din has him loosely gripped at the base of his cock and he is almost congratulating himself on not going completely headless before Din takes the head into his mouth and proceeds to swallow him down.

The groan that escapes him is truly filthy, it breaks somewhere in the middle, becomes high and reedy, while Din starts moving, tongue pressed to the bottom of Luke’s cock, and then he hollows his cheeks and Luke whines. Din taps at Luke’s calf with his free hand and Luke throws his legs over Din’s shoulders, the sound dull on the beskar. If Luke were any more capable of logical thought he would consider the weird duality of Din, helmetless but armoured, protected but vulnerable but then Din does something very talented with his tongue and even the back of Luke’s brain shuts off. He knows he’s babbling, swears and praises, and a very liberal use of Din’s name but there simply is no filter anymore, nothing to stop Luke from getting progressively more incoherent.

“Din!” Gods this really didn’t take long, “Fuck, kriff, I- Wait-!“ but Din doesn’t heed his warning, resists from where Luke is trying to push him back with his socked feet, just gives him a last squeeze and swallows everything down as Luke’s vision goes black and starry.

He can hear how Din gets up, stands warm and solid between his knees. hear how Din gets up, stands warm and solid between his knees.

"Uh.." Din asks, "Is that normal?"

"Huh?" Luke replies very intelligently. Force, he's pretty sure it will take a while for his brain to reboot. But he slips from the counter, reties his pants and actually looks over his shoulder to see what Din is talking about. The kitchen table, the bench, the one chair, the completely forgotten mugs of tea, still with their contents, are all floating lazily half a meter above the ground. "Oh," Luke has to laugh, giggles, absolutely giddy, and with a wave of his hand everything returns to solid ground. He turns back around.

"May I-" Luke gestures, hooks a finger through one of Din's belt-loops, wants to return the favour, but is stopped by the awkward expression making Din press his lips together.

"I, uh," Din coughs, scratches the back of his head, "already- I'm taken care of." He clicks his mouth shut and the blush coating his cheeks is truly spectacular.

Luke stares. "Oh. Oh-" he's very sure his face is similarly red, but he has to grin, hooks his other forefinger through a belt-loop and pulls Din a tad closer, "Guess I'm calling shotgun for tomorrow then."

Din sputters, "I- tomorrow?" gapes as he searches for the words, "You- Are you already thinking of tomorrow?"

"Well you said you had had so many ... thoughts about this kitchen," Luke smirks and delights in how Din's gaze turns sharper, "Just planning ahead."

Din clicks his tongue, leans back and tucks his gloves into his belt, "Why do I get the feeling you are going to be very handsy tomorrow?"

Luke grins, "Hey, it's not my fault! Look at you! I've been pining for forever, I have to get it out of my system."

Din huffs, "I- you-" he grows even redder and Luke is loudly laughing now, takes a step to the side to be able to look up at Din when the other man turns his head away to hide his blush. "Shut it, Jedi!" he grumbles, but lets Luke catch up, and the press of his forehead against Luke's is a soft tap. "I should. Get cleaned up though."

Luke sighs, relishes the contact before pulling back. "Yes, of course." He tries to chew the words down but what the hell, he might as well ask, "Do you want to come over after?"

Din looks over from where he had picked up the cold pot of tea, moving to put it in the conservator, "Uh. Yeah. Sure."

The warm orange glow betrays his calm exterior and Luke grins, "Great! Theeeeeeeen, I'll see you in a minute?"

Din nods, jerkily, picks his helmet back up and it locks on with a hiss. The happy orange does not recede.

* * *

20 minutes later there's a knock on the door and Luke rushes to finish pulling his sleep-shirt over his head, quietly pulls open the door to reveal Din, helmet again securely in place but without armour.  
Luke smiles, steps to the side, closes the door behind him as Din is suddenly standing there in his small bedroom. It's just the bed and his dresser, a chair for his clothes, and the door off to the refresher. He took one of the smaller rooms, he has the study if he needs to work and the children will need the larger rooms when they get older. But now the smaller bed is kinda inconvenient.

"I was just going to lie down," Luke says, and this is such a weird thing to say, but it's only just after 8 and an early evening might be nice, "If you want- or what do you-?" but Din pulls off his helmet, sets it on the chair that Luke had just 5 minutes ago swept all his old shirts off of, and turns to look at him and nods.

So Luke slips under the covers, back against the wall, holds it open for Din to slide in next to him. Just the nightlight is on and while Luke considers shutting it off with a flick of his hand, Din suddenly props himself up on his elbow, reaches out a hand. Luke is a bit perplex, lets him, and when Din brushes a hand over where his shoulder meets his neck and the penny drops.

Probably shouldn't have worn such a low-cut shirt on the first night.

"What is that?" Din asks, runs a finger over a pale scar, even more visible in contrast to Luke's faintly tanned skin. Hurrah for working in the garden.

Luke winces, a tad awkward, "Force-lightening scar. It's this very advanced skill. Not very comfortable."

Din stills from where he was following the curve of the scar, "How far does it go?"

"Oh," Luke sits up a bit, pulls up his shirt, and shows Din his back, "They're mainly on the back. They've faded a bit, thank God. Always awkward when you go swimming." He puffs a laugh and turns back around.

Din still has his hand raised, outstretched from where he had reached out. He looks worried, brows furrowed, eyes pained, "How did it happen?"

Oh, eh- "Remember when I told you about the Emperor? This was his bag, Force-lightening. Like-" Luke raises a hand, bends his fingers, makes a crackling sound, "zap-zap."

Din's looks at him as if he had grown a second head, unblinking, and a muscle jumps in his jaw, "This is how he tortured you?"

Luke grimaces, "Yeah... really not great. But it's fine now. And anyway, the hand-thing hurt worse."

Din's gaze snaps to his hand. Luke doesn't wear the glove to sleep and in the low light the difference to his normal skin is again only visible because Luke is kinda tan right now.

Din moves to take his hand, and Luke grows warm at how Din strokes a thumb across his palm. "Was that Palpatine too?" Din asks, gaze lowered to look at his hand, voice very calm.

Fuck, Luke hadn't mentioned this the last time right? Had he even mentioned his hand at all? "No, that was my father-" Din's thumb stills, "a few years before."

Then there is a spike and Maker, Din must have been holding back for it to burst out like this- it's rage, pure rage, a burning wrath that Luke has never felt like this from Din, cold fury, a simmering black which pulses barely contained.

"Hey," Luke says, voice soft, laces his prosthetic fingers with Din's, tugs until he raises his head to meet Luke's gaze. Saying the look of Din's face is murderous would be an understatement, his usually warm eyes are too cold and Din is so tense Luke is afraid it might break him in half. "I've forgiven him a long time ago, Din. What's done is done. No use crying over spilled milk." He gives Din's hand a squeeze, can feel the warmth through the synth-skin, “And this one's not so bad, right?"

Din slowly unclenches, lets Luke gently push him back against the cushions, and when Luke lays back down next to him, Din's eyes have grown softer again even though he still looks serious, brows furrowed in concern. Luke strokes a finger over the wrinkle between his eyebrows, and moves to turn off the light.

The quiet is nice, a comfortable thing. They lie in the dark, warm and safe, and Luke could stay there forever.

"I missed you," Luke speaks into the silence, "a lot."

He feels Din shift, the mattress dips as he moves even closer and Luke can feel Din's warm breath on every exhale.

"I missed you too," he echoes, places a hand between them that Luke immediately covers with his own.

"I was so worried," Luke breathes, it's so easy to be honest in the dark, "that something had happened to you. I almost went looking."

"Really?"

Luke nods but then realises that Din probably can't see it in the low light, "Yeah, but then I got your message. I kept checking when the last time was that you had been online but it was always just a day or two in-between." He takes a breath, "And I think, I would have probably felt it. In the Force. If you were hurt."

Din shifts.

"You could feel that? Could have felt that?"

"Yeah," Luke almost whispers, "I can almost always pick you out when I focus. And if you're not too far away."

  
The silence grows, and Din's lies very still.

  
Luke huffs a laugh, a bit uncomfortable, "Sorry, is that weird?"

"No, that's incredible," Din disagrees immediately, "But, how? Why can you feel me?"

Luke laughs for real now, and moves his hand to cup Din's cheek, "Because I love you. I can feel my sister and Han too. They're these bright points, like a beacon I guess, Chewie is similar. But you're- different."

"Different how?" Din asks, his voice is barely audible.

"You're not bright, exactly," Luke tries to start, "No wait, that's not really accurate. Uh..." he reaches out a tad, feels Din in the Force and under his hand, tries to describe the sensation, "You are this- clarity. You're calm in a way where you don't necessarily project your emotions outward, they kinda billow around you a bit, but you keep them very contained. Not cut off or sealed- but just as your own."

"You can feel all that?"

Luke shrugs, "It's just the Force. The children feel it too, to a degree. I think that's why they immediately trusted you, stayed around you from the very beginning. You radiate this calm composure and when they're feeling something very strongly themselves it does not bounce back off of you. You just absorb it, I guess. It's very comforting, like a safety-net."

Din clears his throat and when Luke brushes his thumb across Din's cheek-bone it comes back wet.

"Oh, Din," Luke shushes, moves to wrap his arms around the man lying next to him, pulls him close to press his head against his chest, runs a hand through his dark curls.

"I'm glad," Din says, voice still a bit wet, "about the safety-net thing."

Luke laughs, presses a kiss against Din's forehead, and a warm sensation washes through him from head to toes, "Me too."

Din kisses him goodbye before he leaves. The bed is just too small to share and Din doesn't want Grogu to worry when he's not there when the little one wakes up. But Luke barely wakes up, hears soft Mando'a, feels a brush of lips on his forehead and he falls back asleep with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> damn this was the fastest i've ever written smut i think asdfaisodfuiddufajcisd 
> 
> sorry about the bit weird cut-off (i might just paste chapter 6+7 together to make it more cohesive? maybe?) but i didn't want to slap anyone with a 6k long chapter 😅
> 
> in other news: the chapter number has gone uuuuup- i added too much junk and didn't want to cut the rest of this fic sooooo a little bit more to go!


End file.
